Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines: Part Three

Oberyn Martell X Lannister!Reader - I'm Yours

A/N - This chapter is based on the song I'm Yours by Jason Mraz. Reader is the sister of Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion, and this chapter takes place before the first ASOIAF book/series. I hope you all enjoy it. 

You hadn't needed to be asked twice when you had been told you would be leaving King's Landing for sunnier climates. From the day your sister had become queen, you had detested the city with a passion and now that you were being handed the chance to make a quick getaway you had been quick on the uptake. 

But, it wasn't until you were already halfway to Dorne that you had been informed of the true purpose of your travels. Marriage. You should have seen it coming really. At your age, you were lucky that your father hadn't married you off earlier. But that didn't mean that it didn't sting that he hadn't made the effort to inform you of the decision before you were already on your way to your husband-to-be's home.  

And then it had clicked into place. Doran Martell was already married. Trystane was far too young to even be considered as a match. And your father would never allow for you to marry into one of the smaller Dornish houses, which left only one option. 

Seven Hells, you knew your father was desperate to repair the relationship between your houses, but you thought that even he knew better than to marry you off to a known womaniser. And not just any womaniser, either. The most well-known womaniser in any of the Seven Kingdoms.  

"He must be going mad," you murmured, drawing Tyrion's attention over to you as you frowned to yourself. "Father has completely lost his mind," you pressed on, hearing a small chuckle slip out of your brother.

"He knows what he's doing-"

"Well, I don't. You'd think he'd at least tell me something-" you interrupted, shaking your head. "I mean, please Tyrion, Oberyn Martell? Don't get me wrong, I know most married Lords take mistresses, but he's slept with practically every woman he's ever met, and most of the men too, for that matter. What is Father thinking?" 

Tyrion sighed. "He is thinking that you will marry him and have his heirs and repair the rather delicate relationship between our families." 

"Oberyn has children," you reminded him, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Unless both of you happened to forget that little bit of information."

"Yes, he has, but none of them are legitimate heirs. But once you marry him-"

"If I marry him," you corrected.

Tyrion rubbed a hand over his face in frustration, shaking his head slightly. "Y/N, he isn't a bad man; you could marry a lot worse." 

"And I could marry far better," you muttered. "What makes you think he'll even agree to the match? I am a Lannister, after all, and he hates our family."

"He already agreed."

*Time Skip*

The wedding had come along far quicker than you had been expecting and you'd spent much of the day wishing you would wake up back in your bed in King's Landing. Oberyn hadn't said a word to you beyond your vows, leaving you both sitting silently up at the head table whilst those around you made merry with the wine. 

Your jaw tensed when you felt him shift beside you, clearly as uncomfortable as you were. 

"Why did you agree to marry me?" His eyes were on you a moment later, his entire body turned to face you as you continued staring out at the crowd. "You could have spared us both a lot of bother-"

"Do you truly think I had a choice?" 

You swallowed around the lump forming in your throat. "You're a man; you always have a choice."

A soft snort of laughter slipped out of him at your comment. "Doran asked me to agree. Told me it would help to heal our houses. How can you say no to a request like that?" 

Your eyes flickered over to him for a moment, finding him already watching you. "Tyrion told me the same thing," you hummed. "Still, if I had a choice, I think I would've been selfish enough to tell them 'no'." You paused, just for a second, before looking at him properly. "Though, I'd like to think there's a difference between selfishness and self-preservation." 

"There's definitely a difference," he told you, his head tilting to the side slightly as he gazed at you. "You know, if it wasn't for your family name, I doubt I would've hesitated in agreeing at all?"

Your gaze dropped down to your lap as you tried to hide the smile that crept onto your lips. "Well, I'm not a Lannister anymore, am I? I'm your wife; I'm a Martell." 

"Of course," he murmured, smiling sweetly at you. 

*Time Skip*

That evening, upon reaching your, now shared, chambers, your nerves had returned tenfold. You had always been taught that you needed to remain a maiden until you were married and that you had to save yourself for your husband, and that had never been an issue. But now, all you could think about was how experienced Oberyn was, and how disappointed he would be with you.

You were lucky, you supposed, that he had made a point of ignoring tradition and avoiding the bedding ceremony. He'd made some throwaway comment about how long the lords would be waiting outside of your chambers for confirmation of the consummation as he intended to spend the entire night, and much of the next day, pleasing his new wife. 

But once the door had clicked shut, and he had engaged the sliding lock, he had remained on the other side of the room, his eyes lingering on you from a distance. 

"It's been a long day: I can only imagine you're as tired as I am," he started, moving slowly as he made his way over to the table to pour you both a cup of wine. "Sit with me for a while?" 

You hesitated for a moment before crossing the room and perching on the chair opposite him, taking a small sip from the cup he pushed towards you. 

"I assume you've never taken a lover," he started again, watching as your eyes widened in horror at the blunt comment. "I can imagine you had septa's telling you that you needed to remain pure for your husband; for me." You swallowed down the lump in your throat, nodding. "We don't think like that in Dorne," he hummed, his head tilting to the side slightly as he smiled at you. "We love love."

"I would argue that bedding someone doesn't necessarily mean you love them," you murmured, and he let out a small snort of laughter, nodding.

"Perhaps I phrased it wrong," he chuckled, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. "We love making love," he reiterated. "But that doesn't mean it has to be tonight. I won't make love to you if you aren't ready."

Your brow furrowed. "What if I'm never ready?"

Oberyn shrugged slightly. "Then I think your father will be a little bit disappointed about his lack of Grandchildren," he teased. "But you'll never hear a complaint from me, Sweet girl." 

"Because you'll be sleeping with other people instead?" 

His smile faded slightly. "Would that upset you?" 

"I-" you paused, biting down on your lip as you considered your answer. "I think it would, yes. I don't want to share you when I am ready." 

"Then I won't be sleeping with anyone else. I'll be yours, My Sweet," he told you. "For as long as you'll have me." 

You nodded slightly. "If that is truly the case," you murmured, getting to your feet, and taking his hand in yours. "Then I want you to take me to bed now," your hummed, watching his mouth open and close as he searched for something to say. "Make love to me, Oberyn." 

He had his lips pressed to yours a moment later, drawing you down into a sweet kiss. "I'm never going to tire of hearing those pretty words passing your pretty lips," he breathed against you, his nose nudging yours. 

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